


Perfect Strangers

by Anonymous



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Muggle AU, coffee shop AU, jily lives!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 13:26:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29490537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Ron Weasley is just like any other University student: he attends his classes, plays for the football team, and spends much of his spare time working at the coffee shop that's owned by his best mate's parents. What will happen when an ordinary shift brings in a new customer?
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 4
Kudos: 56
Collections: Ron's Chessboard Fest 2021





	Perfect Strangers

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to my betas for reading and helping with this story! I hope you enjoy :)

**_Nothin’ Like You - Dan & Shay_ **

_ I remember when I first met you _

_ Sipping coffee in a corner booth _

_ You were twirling your hair _

_ And I just had to stare _

_ For a minute or two _

_ I was laughing at your stack of books _

_ Then you shot me that smile _

_ Hey beautiful girl, in your own little world _

_ And me in it _

_ You got all of my attention _

_ And you ain't even trying _

_ Yeah, you're my kind of different _

_ And I never seen nothin' _

_ Nothin' like you _

* * *

Ron was sitting on a stool behind the counter of Marauder’s Mochas, practicing his foam art as he attempted to create a stag. The coffee shop was quiet, and he reckoned there was about an hour until the late afternoon rush. Since starting the new semester at university, his hours had changed significantly from the summer, not that he was complaining. 

He was grateful that his best friend’s parents had hired him and were willing to be flexible to accommodate his schedule. The least he could do was attend morning classes so he could pick up the 2:00-7:00 shifts four days out of the week. It really wasn’t a bad gig. The shop was quieter during those hours, and James and Lily were okay with him getting his homework done when he finished his chores around the shop.

Ron looked up when he heard the familiar bell over the door chime, abandoning his efforts with the steaming milk to see to the customer that came through the door. His breath caught in his throat when he saw her—a young woman who looked to be in her late teens, probably around his age. A heavy messenger bag was slung over her shoulder, almost bursting open from the weight of the books it was holding.

Her bushy brown hair cascaded down her over her shoulders. Most of it was pulled back, save for a few stray curls that framed her face. She had that girl-next-door kind of look, which wasn’t typically Ron’s type, but there was an understated attractiveness about her that was drawing him in. 

“Hi there, how can I help you?” he asked when she approached the counter.

“Erm, hi,” she said with a distracted air about herself.

“Take your time, I know there’s a lot,” Ron said. “I’m happy to help if you have any questions.”

“Do you just have a regular chai latte?” she asked.

“Yeah, what size?”

“Medium, please. I’m sorry, I’m new here, and I’m used to my coffee shop back home. The menus always confuse m—” Her eyes lowered and she met Ron’s gaze. 

She was just as beautiful up close, with her intuitive chocolate brown eyes looking deep into his. It shook Ron to his very core. Breaking the trance, he smiled widely at her, happy that she wasn’t like the other rude customers he was used to waiting on. 

“That’ll be £4, please. What brings you to London, then?”

“I’ve just started at UCL. I have a few hours in between classes, so I thought I’d try and find a place to get a beverage and then maybe head back to campus to study,” the girl said as she handed him the money.

“I go to UCL, too! You’re more than welcome to study here if it’s quiet enough for you. I know I can make quite a lot of noise, sitting here by myself and all.”

A chuckle escaped her lips as she took her change. “I feel like I know you from somewhere. What are you studying?” 

Ron turned to the machine and began prepping her drink. “I’m working toward an architecture degree. It’s my first year as well. I would say that maybe we passed each other on campus, but seeing as how I’m only there for classes and football training, that may not be the case.”

“Hmm,” she said as she walked over to the pickup counter. “Maybe not, then. You just seem so familiar to me.”

“I get that a lot,” he joked. “What are you studying?”

“History, politics, and economics,” she rattled off.

Ron stopped to look at her. “No wonder that bag of yours looks like the strap’s about to break! I didn’t know you could combine the three.”

“Well, it’s not done often, but it was on the list of degrees, and I thought it’d give me the most variety considering I’m not exactly sure which direction I want to pursue.”   
  


“Yeah, well, don’t forget that university is supposed to be  _ fun, _ too,” he reminded her.

He wasn’t sure why her work load concerned him. He barely knew her, yet he felt invested in her well being and didn’t want to see her work herself to exhaustion.

“I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks for your concern,” she said.

“Did you want this for here or to go?”

“Oh, um, for here please.”

“You got it,” Ron said as he poured the contents of the drink carefully into a large mug. 

He knew he probably should have gone with a more straightforward foam art design, but since he’d just been practicing stags, it was what he ended up pouring. Ron examined his work and determined that it was actually the best version he’d made all day. 

“Wicked,” he said under his breath as he gently set the mug down for its recipient.

She looked down at the mug and then back up at Ron. “Wow! I didn’t realize I’d get foam art, too. Don’t cafes typically charge extra for that?”

Ron shrugged. “It’s a new one I’ve been working on, so it’s on the house.”

“What’s on the house?” Ron’s best friend Harry asked as he came in from the door through the back.

“The foam art. I’m using it for practice,” Ron said.

Harry leaned over to get a look. “You’re getting better at that! Impressive.”

  
  


The girl looked up and seemed to recognize Harry. “You look familiar. Aren’t you in Econ 101 on Mondays at 10?”

“I am!” Harry said as he got a closer look at the customer. Recognition crossed his face. “You were sitting up front, right? You spared the rest of us from having to answer any questions?”

The girl blushed. “Yes. I like to be prepared with the reading ahead of time…”

“I’m not complaining! I’m Harry, by the way. My parents own this lovely establishment.” Harry reached out his hand to introduce himself.

“I’m Hermione. Hermione Granger. And you really should attempt to read the course material,” she suggested. “And you are?”

She was now looking at Ron. “Er, Ron. Ron Weasley.”

“Well, thank you for the latte, Ron. If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to get started on my work now,” she said.

Ron watched her walk away. She chose the corner booth on the other side of the small shop. He rinsed out the cup and cleaned the steamer for the next order to busy himself, but he couldn’t help sneaking glances at the girl. After a few minutes, he felt Harry nudge him hard in the side. 

“You’re staring, you know,” he said, giving him an odd look.

“Er, I am? Sorry…”

“No need to apologize! I just haven’t seen you like this in, well, ever,” Harry commented.

It wasn’t that Ron never had a girlfriend. He’d dated in secondary school, but no one had ever captured his attention quite like this perfect stranger whom he’d just met. She looked so inquisitive as she sipped her latte and lost herself in her books. It was ironic, really, because he vowed that he would spend his first year of university not worrying about any relationships. Things with his ex-girlfriend, Lavender, hadn’t ended so well, and he just wanted to take time and enjoy this part of his life without being tied down to anyone. Not that he had the time between the shop, his studies, and the university football team.

Ron was brought out of his thoughts as the afternoon rush started to fill in, and the next couple of hours passed by in a blur. He was so busy that he hadn’t noticed when she'd left, and his heart sank slightly when he looked up and realized she was gone. His shifts required him to wait on hundreds of customers a week, and not once did he ever look forward to the prospect that a particular customer would return, but with her, it was different.

* * *

Over the next few days, Ron found himself holding his breath for the girl, Hermione, to come back, but there was no such luck. He didn’t understand why he was so desperate to see her again. There was always the option of asking Harry to get her contact information from their shared class, but he didn’t want to force anything. He thought they’d hit it off that day, but maybe he’d simply read their conversation wrong. She was probably just being a polite customer. 

It wasn’t until the following week, when his shift had just started and he’d all but given up, that the doorbell chimed and she walked in again. Ron tried to mask his excitement, but he couldn’t help but say, “Hey, you’re back!” as she walked up to the counter.

His greeting earned him a genuine smile as she said, “Yes! After scouting out various coffee shops and libraries in the area, I’ve determined that this is my favorite.”

“Wait, wait, wait. You mean to tell me you researched different locations to spend your afternoons studying? And here I thought you’d come back for my charming good looks and exquisite latte making skills,” Ron couldn’t help but tease her.

Hermione let out a giggle. “As a matter of fact, yes, I did do some research. Though if you think that’s a bit ridiculous, I can take my business to my second choice, even if your latte was far superior to the other contenders,” she said through a smirk. The lack of acknowledgement of his good looks wasn’t lost on Ron.

He flashed her a lopsided grin. “No, no! It’s great you came back. So, what’ll it be? Another chai latte?”

“Actually, I thought I’d try something different. Do you have any recommendations?”

Ron contemplated her for a moment. It wasn’t something they usually advertised, but he couldn’t resist the urge to let her in on the shop’s secret. Deciding to go ahead and include her, he turned swiftly to grab a pen and paper.

“W-where are you going?” she asked, completely bewildered.

Ron ignored her and scribbled down a sentence on the paper before bringing it back over to her and sliding it across the counter.

“Read that,” he said.

“What? Why?” she furrowed her eyebrows at him.

“You asked for my suggestion, and I can’t give it to you unless you say that sentence. It’s not some sort of prank, I promise,” he said sincerely.

“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good,” she said, still eyeing him distrustingly.

“Brilliant!” Ron handed her another sheet of paper from under the counter

“The Marauder’s secret menu?” Hermione looked up at him with wide eyes. “I didn’t think these types of things actually existed!”

“Oh, but they do, and this is one of the best. I even helped develop a few of the drinks myself.” He puffed his chest out slightly with pride.

“So, you’re telling me you can make beautiful foam art,  _ and _ create new and delicious drink options for a select group of people?” Hermione said as her eyes browsed the list.

“Well, when you put it that way…” He trailed off. “So, what’ll it be?”

“They all look so intriguing! What about this Polyjuice Frappe? What’s in it?”

“That’s a favorite! It’s our vanilla-strawberry frappe, but we add white mocha sauce and matcha powder to the edge of the cup, which adds to the flavor profile.”

“Is there any caffeine, or is it simply sugar in liquid form?”

“I can add a shot of espresso if you’d like,” Ron suggested. “Tastes great both ways.”

“Yes, I think I’ll do that, then.”

“Right, I’ll get to that now and bring it over to you if you want to go claim your booth,” Ron said through a grin.

“Thanks,” she said as she handed over her money. 

Ron set to work making Hermione’s frappe and then decided to make his personal favorite: the Slytherin frappe. It was a green tea frappe with a shot of peppermint syrup and java chips; a combo he’d never expected to like, and yet now he had one per week. Since the shop was still quiet, he took both the drinks and brought them over to Hermione’s table.

He slid onto the opposite bench from her as he handed her the frappe. “Mind if I join you?”

She looked up at him. “Aren’t you supposed to be working?”

“Well, yes, but the perks of working for your best friend’s parents means as long as I complete the long list of daily tasks, I can study, or in this case, take a few extra minutes to see how a customer likes her first offering from our secret menu.”

“I suppose that will suffice. Just don’t ignore your other customers for me,” she warned. “I’d hate to see you get fired on my account.”

“Never!” he said as he watched her pick up her drink and take a sip through the straw. “So? What do you think?”

“That is surprisingly really good! I honestly never would have expected that particular flavor combo to work, but it does!” she said excitedly.

Ron smiled triumphantly as he took a sip of his own.

“What’s that one?” she asked interestedly.

“This one’s called the Slytherin frappe.” He eyed her and could tell she wanted to know what was in it, so he explained it to her.

“Can I try it?” she sounded hesitant, but Ron had no qualms.

“Sure,” he said, handing over his drink. 

His heart fluttered as he watched her lips close over his straw, the very one his mouth had just been on, and he found himself wondering what her lips would feel like against—no! He needed to stop. She was simply a new customer that he enjoyed talking to, and apparently sharing drinks with.

Her eyebrows shot up in delight as she handed his drink back to him. “Is this your favorite? It’s delicious!” she exclaimed.

“Yeah, it’s one of them! It’s hard to choose with the selection we’ve got. So many interesting flavor combos that somehow work.”

“And peculiar names, too. Where do they come up with them?”

“Oh, when the owners, James and Lily, were growing up, James and his friends had wild imaginations. They created this whole pretend world that they’d play in with all sorts of made-up names. Harry thinks it’s all ridiculous, but the way they talk and reminisce over it would make you think they actually lived it.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, they basically made up this story that they all were wizards and could do magic. They’d use sticks in the woods as wands and pretended to go to a special school called ‘Hogwarts’. They made up four different houses, all represented by different animals. Slytherin’s one of them, and the animal’s the snake, hence the color choice in the frappe, and—I’m probably boring you.” Ron said as he trailed off.

“No! Not at all. I actually find all of this fascinating. Though, I really should get back to all this homework that seems to be piling up...”

“Why do I have the feeling that the ‘pile-up’ is actually assignments that are set a month from now?” Ron asked.

He saw a blush graze Hermione’s cheeks. “Well, that’s not important.” She was deflecting his observation.

Ron laughed. “Well, I should get back to work anyways. I’d be happy to tell you more about the drink’s origins every time you order a new secret menu item. Then, you can still learn about the story behind them, but I don’t have to bore you and talk your ear off for the next however many hours,” he suggested. 

As Hermione contemplated his offer, Ron felt his ears turn red. Maybe she was just humoring him. He was about to tell her to never mind when she spoke up.

“I think that’s a wonderful plan,” she smiled.

“Really? Er, brilliant. Yeah, right then! Well, I’ll, er, yeah…” he mumbled as he walked away. 

Since when had he forgotten how to speak? He was halfway back to the counter when he suddenly remembered a critical piece of information.

“Hermione?”

“Yes?” She looked up at him so quickly and expectantly that he almost thought she was hoping for him to ask her something.

“I almost forgot to tell you: if you order off the secret menu, and you like the drink, you have to say ‘mischief managed.’”

“What? You’re joking,” she said disbelievingly.

“ ‘M not. Do you want me to call the owners? James or Lily could tell you themselves.”

“No, no, you don’t need to do that. Mischief managed,” she said as she smiled at him before delving back into her work.

Ron couldn’t wipe the grin off his face for the rest of his shift.

* * *

The days and weeks began to blur together. Hermione would come to Marauder’s Mochas during Ron’s shifts, and they always fell into the same routine. When Ron wasn’t joining her in the booth for conversation, he’d sneak glances her way, watching her study. He was undeniably attracted to the bookworm, and couldn’t get enough of their time together. From the way the books were stacked on the table, threatening to fall over, to how she’d twirl her hair in her fingers as she got lost in her reading, Ron had trouble adjusting his attention elsewhere.

They’d long finished her goal of trying everything on the secret menu, and her two favorites were the Ravenclaw Frappe and the Butterbeer Latte. She’d been fascinated by the stories Ron told her of the Marauder’s growing up and asked if they’d ever considered writing a book about their adventures. The irony was that Lily was in the process of writing it herself. The shop was so successful that Lily could finally focus on her dream, especially that Harry was now older.

Ron was watching her again from behind the espresso machine as she looked up and flashed him a smile.

“So, when are you going to ask her out?” Harry startled him.

“Bloody hell, when’d you get here?” Ron asked.

“Ten minutes ago. You’ve been so preoccupied with your favourite customer that you didn’t notice.”

“Have not,” Ron tried to argue, but Harry simply shot him a look.

“It’s been six weeks. You two are clearly into each other. Just ask her out already! I’ll cover the counter.”

Harry was right. Ron had been toying with the idea of asking her to dinner for a while now, but every time he thought he’d plucked up the courage, something came up or the moment was lost. What was the worst she could say, anyway? Judging by their previous conversations, he was pretty sure she was single. 

Ron had skirted around the question as he tried to find out inconspicuously. He knew that she lived on campus, but she didn’t like to spend a lot of time in the dorms because it was loud.

He’d almost invited her to come to his and Harry’s house to hang out, but then he remembered their roommates and thought better of it. He didn’t want to risk one of them trying to steal her away before he had the opportunity to ask her out himself.

“Just go,” Harry said as he pushed him toward the swivel door.

Ron’s legs were moving toward Hermione’s table of their own accord, and he sat down across from her for the second time that day. 

“Back so soon?” Hermione said brightly.

“Harry’s here, so I’m taking my break. Thought you could use a distraction,” he said, flashing a grin her way.

“How thoughtful of you. This economics assignment is dreadfully boring,” she agreed.

“So, er, I was wondering…” Ron stammered as Hermione looked up at him with interest.

“Yes?” Hermione urged him on.

“Would you, er, like to get dinner on Friday? As much as I enjoy your company here, I thought it might be nice to go out somewhere else…” Ron was never smooth at asking girls out, but this was a whole new level of stammering.

“Oh! Um, I’d love to, but—”

“Right, sorry, I knew a date would be a stretch—”

“No! No, it’s just that I already committed to going out with someone else on Friday,” she explained.

Ron’s heart sunk into his stomach. Of course, he’d waited too long, and someone else had already come along and seen how wonderful she is. That was just his luck.

“I really am sorry. I—it’s rather new. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. You’ve been a great friend, and you’re right, I’d love to get to know you outside the cafe, too.”

Even better. He’d completely misread everything. He did say it was meant to be a date, didn’t he? Not that he  _ didn’t  _ want to develop their friendship outside these four walls. He truly enjoyed her company, but he wanted to get to know her on a deeper level.

“Er, right, yeah. I just remembered that I think James and Lily needed someone to pick up the closing shift on Friday anyway. That would have been embarrassing,” he lied. “Is he a nice bloke?”

“Um, yes. Very polite. He’s in my econ class, too.”   
  


Just then, a gaggle of teens walked into the shop. “I better get back behind the counter to help Harry out. I’ll talk to you later.” Ron faked a smile despite his disappointment.

Harry was looking at him, waiting for an answer. Ron simply shook his head as he re-tied his apron in preparation for the influx of orders they were about to get. He didn’t notice the sad look on Hermione’s face as he got back to work.

* * *

On Friday, Ron was loading up his bag and getting ready to head to Marauder’s Mochas. He’d all but begged Lily and James to let him take the closing shift. 

“Ron, you really don’t have to, we don’t mind taking the closing shift,” James had told him.

“Yeah, why don’t you enjoy a Friday night off. Go out with your housemates! Just because Harry’s going out on a date doesn’t mean you need to occupy yourself with work,” Lily added.

“W-what? How’d you know—” Ron stammered.

“Parents know everything,” Lily commented in a singsong voice.

Well, they didn’t know why he was trying to pick up the shift, so that was something. “It’s fine. I don’t mind! I could use the extra money, what with Christmas coming up,” he lied. “Please, Lily? Friday nights are normally quiet. I can handle it, and I’ve closed before.”

James and Lily shared a look. “Alright, Ron, you can take the shift,” James gave in.

“We’ll be home, though, so call us if you need anything!” Lily assured him.

The shop closed at nine on Friday evenings. Harry was trying to convince his parents that they could close at seven, just like Saturdays and Sundays, since the last two hours tended to be dead, but they hadn’t given in to that suggestion yet. Ron walked in just before five to relieve Harry from his shift so he could get ready for his date.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Harry asked him.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Ron lied.

“You’ve just been down since finding out Hermione’s seeing someone else.”

“I’ll be fine. Work will distract me tonight, and then things will go back to normal this weekend.”

“Just don’t write her off, okay?”

  
“I won’t, Harry. I like her company and friendship. Now, get out of here so you’re not late. My sister will never forgive you if you are!”

Harry grinned as he grabbed his things and headed out the door. Ron thought about Harry’s words as he set to work cleaning the dishes that were in the back. Nothing was telling him that he and Hermione couldn’t still be friends. He wasn’t lying when he said he enjoyed her company. Besides, she was allowed to have friends that were blokes, right? 

As the night wore on, he caught himself staring at the booth she usually occupied far too often. He needed to find something to keep himself busier over the weekend; otherwise, it’d feel like Monday would never come.

* * *

Hermione was sitting across the table from Viktor Krum as they waited for their dinners to come. The restaurant was posh, and Viktor was the perfect gentleman. He was also studying history and economics, so they had a lot in common when it came to their studies, but Hermione was quickly realizing that that was the extent of their shared interests. He was rather soft-spoken, and it felt like pulling teeth to keep the conversation moving. With Ron, everything flowed. 

Hermione mentally scolded herself.  _ I can’t be thinking about Ron. I told myself to put him out of my mind, and yet he continues to creep in _ . When Ron had asked her out, her heart had practically leapt out of her chest, but then it immediately sank when she remembered she’d already committed to Viktor.

It wasn’t like they were going steady or anything, but it was their third date. He was always punctual when he picked her up and never suggested taking her back to his place. At the end of their first date, Viktor had kissed her on the cheek, and after the second, they had parted ways after a chaste kiss on the lips. It wasn’t terrible, but Hermione couldn’t get Ron’s image out of her head even though she should have focused on Viktor.

“Is everything alright, Herminny? You’ve barely touched your food,” Viktor commented.

“Yes, yes, of course!” she lied. 

She made a better effort to eat her meal as her thoughts wandered to Ron again. She was only half-listening to Viktor prattle on about rugby and how he’s finally found a balance between classes and training.

When Viktor asked her if she wanted dessert, she politely declined. 

“No problem. I was thinking we could go for a walk, and then maybe if you wanted we could watch a movie at my place?” Viktor suggested as the server handed them the bill.

Hermione avoided his eyes as her stomach twisted in knots. She knew this wasn’t going to work out with Viktor. Not when her mind kept turning to Ron. She just hated letting people down. 

“I—I don’t know, Viktor. It’s been a long week, and I’m feeling rather tired.”

“I see. But it’s Friday night, and we don’t have to go for the walk. We could just—”

“No. No, I’m sorry. I can’t—I can’t do this,” she said through a grimace. “You’re a wonderful guy, really! The perfect gentleman, even, but I just—I can’t commit to this until I—” 

Viktor looked disappointed, and Hermione felt awful. She finally had a guy who was interested in her and not a creep, and here she was ruining it. “There’s another person, isn’t there,” Viktor said.

“No! I mean—yes—maybe? I really don’t know, but I don’t want to lead you along in case there is. I’m sorry, Viktor, you’re really wonderful. Can I at least pay for my portion of the meal?”

“Not at all, I’ve got this. Regardless of how the night is ending, I still took you out.” Hermione smiled at him gratefully. “If there is someone else, you should go find them.”

“Really? But—” 

“The server will be back with my change any minute now. You don’t need to wait for me.” 

Hermione looked conflicted, but Viktor was urging her to go. “Th-thank you,” she said as she got up and put her coat on. 

She checked her watch. It was 8:45. The cafe closed in fifteen minutes, and she really hoped Ron was working, even though she was pretty sure it was a lie to hide his disappointment that she’d had other plans. Maybe whoever was working could at least give her his contact information if he wasn’t there. 

Hermione began walking as quickly as she could to make it the five blocks to Marauder’s Mochas. About halfway there, it started to rain. She knew it’d been threatening all night, but she thought she wouldn’t be out too long and hadn’t chosen her rain repellent coat. There was a moment where Hermione thought about giving up and just returning to her dorm because she probably looked awful, but a small part of her insisted she kept going.

The heels she was wearing slowed her down, but she still made it to the shop with two minutes to spare. She reached out to pull the handle, and thankfully they hadn’t locked up early. The familiar chime from the doorbell gave her presence away, but she stood frozen on the mat just inside the door.

“Hermione?” she heard Ron’s voice.

“Hi,” she said breathily. Thank goodness he was here.

“What are you doing here? Is everything alright?” He seemed concerned, which made her heart beat faster.

“Y-yes.”   
  


“What happened to your date?”

“I left. It didn’t feel right and I—”

“He didn’t hurt you or anything, did he?” Ron’s brow furrowed in concern.

“No! Nothing like that. He was ideal, really,” Hermione said quickly, causing Ron to slouch.

“Er, I’m not following.”

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” she blurted out. “My date was droning on and on about his classes and rugby, and it’s all ironic really because you and I have the same conversations, yet I was so  _ bored _ .”

Ron was watching her intently. “What are you trying to say?”

Hermione sighed. She knew she wasn’t good at this sort of thing. Were her insinuations not obvious enough? Regardless, she needed to take a chance. She needed to tell him.

“That I wish it were you, and I’d still like to go on a date with you if it isn’t too late.” 

She looked up at him, waiting for him to say something, anything. When he didn’t, she mumbled something about a misunderstanding, and sorry for bothering him before turning to leave. She should have known it was too good to be true.

“Hermione, wait,” Ron said.

She turned hopefully as he closed the gap that was previously between them. For a second, she thought he was going to pull her in and kiss her right then and there. Instead, he reached around her to lock the door to the shop, and another wave of disappointment flooded her system. 

“I was experimenting with drinks earlier, and there’s one I came up with that I think you’ll like.” 

  
Ron took her hand and led her back behind the counter, where he prepared one last drink for the evening. “It’s a raspberry mocha latte,” he said, handing her the paper cup, minus its lid.

“But that’s not new,” Hermione said. “It’s—”

She froze when she looked down and saw that he’d created a rather intricate heart in the foam. Her breath caught in her throat as she looked up at him. He was watching her reaction. Without thinking, Hermione set down the cup on the counter and threw her arms around him. She probably should have refrained, since she was still soaking wet, but she didn’t care. Ron leaned in and kissed her tentatively, and Hermione felt her knees go weak.

When Ron pulled away, he looked into her eyes. “I know you’ve already had dinner, but do you want to come back to my place? Hopefully, my housemates will have already gone to the pub, and we could watch a movie?”

  
“That sounds perfect.”

It was ironic, really, that Ron had suggested the same thing Viktor had no more than half an hour ago, but this felt different. Ron’s offer felt right. And after six weeks of getting to know the red-headed barista at the coffee shop, Hermione was more than ready to know him better.


End file.
